Episodes
by erm31323
Summary: Written for the Semi-Finals of the QLFC - Justin has been having episodes that neither he nor his mother can explain. A look at Justin's first incidents of accidental magic.


**A/N - Written for the Semi-Finals of the QLFC. My prompt this round was to write about the childhood of a minor character, one with less that 200 fics written about them, so I chose Justin Finch-Fletchley. Enjoy. :)**

**Episodes**

Justin sat behind the tree sniffling. Swiping a hand across his eyes, he looked down at the large hole in the knee of his trousers. His mother was going to be angry; she had told him to change his clothes before he went outside to play. They were new even; she'd bought them only a week ago. But he had been in such a hurry to get to Geoffrey's house that he hadn't bothered.

Stupid Thomas. If it hadn't been for him, Justin wouldn't be hiding behind this tree. He didn't understand why the other boy picked on him so much. He was two years older than Justin and much bigger. Justin never spoke to him and tried to stay as far away from him as possible, but Thomas had spotted him on his way to Geoffrey's and chased Justin to the park. Justin had tried to climb a tree to get away from the other boy, but Thomas had grabbed his leg and hauled him to the ground. His trousers tore when he fell.

He had a scrape on his knee too, one that had made tears well in his eyes when he'd landed on the pebbles and sticks beneath the tree. Thomas had made fun of him for that too of course, kicking him a few times for good measure. And then for some reason, Thomas had run off, leaving Justin alone instead of pounding him like he usually did.

Justin rubbed his side where Thomas had kicked him. It hurt a lot and all he wanted to do was go home and let his mother take care of him, but he now he couldn't. His knee was bleeding a little and it stung. He knew his mum would put a plaster on it and then give him a hug and a biscuit or maybe some ice cream. He sniffled again and began to trace the edges of the hole with his finger noticing that it was starting to get darker.

"Justin!" a voice called and Justin froze. His mother had come looking for him. He wanted to run and let her hug him and tell him everything was going to be all right, but he couldn't let her see his trousers. He began to panic and instead of answering her, shut his eyes tightly and squeezed his hands into fists wishing none of this had ever happened.

"Justin, where are you?" his mother called again, her voice starting to sound fearful. Justin sighed and stood up, not opening his eyes until he came out from his hiding place behind the tree. "Oh Justin, thank goodness," his mother said before she rushed to him and drew him into her arms. He wrapped his small arms around her waist and squeezed tightly, beginning to sniffle again.

"What is it darling?" she asked as she pulled back from him.

"I fell down," he mumbled not looking at her.

"Are you hurt?" she asked in concern.

"I scraped my knee and hurt my side," he said rubbing at his ribs. She clucked her tongue and pulled up his shirt, gently feeling along his ribs.

"Nothing's broken," she said with a smile. "Let's look at your knee." Justin's lip began to tremble as she knelt in front of him. His brow furrowed as she pushed up the leg of his trousers. Surely she could have seen his knee through the hole? She rubbed her thumb gently across the cut.

"Didn't I tell you to change your clothes before you went outside to play?" she asked. Justin nodded his head sadly. She chuckled and ruffled his hair. "Come on then," she said, letting his trouser leg fall back down. "We'll go home and get you fixed up." Justin gaped at her. She hadn't even said a word about the hole.

His mother smiled and took his hand and they began to walk out of the park. Justin glanced down at his leg and stopped short, yanking on his mother's arm as he did so. His mouth hung open in astonishment. His trousers looked completely new, as if nothing had ever happened. He dropped his mother's hand and pulled at them, looking for the spot where he knew the hole had been.

"Justin?" he mother said in confusion. His head snapped up to meet her gaze. "What's the matter?" He looked down at his leg again, moving it from side to side trying to find the huge rip in the fabric that he swore had just been there a minute ago.

"N-nothing Mum," he said. He took her hand again and let her lead him back to the house, his mind working furiously over what had happened to his trousers.

That night, he lay in bed contemplating the afternoon's events. He remembered watching a show on the telly once where a girl had fallen and hit her head and then couldn't remember who she was. He wondered if something like that had happened to him. Maybe when Thomas had pulled him out of the tree, he had hit his head and didn't remember it. Maybe he had imagined or dreamed the whole thing about the hole in his trousers. That must have been it. Either that or he had some kind of magical powers and he had wished the hole away. Justin smiled and turned on his side. Even at six he knew that magic was just pretend. He yawned, then closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep.

* * *

Justin snuck into the cupboard and shut the door almost all the way behind him. A thin strip of light shone inside, enough for him to see by without having to turn on the light. He glanced around at the shelves and wondered where his mother had put it this year. He moved a few things around, but didn't see anything even remotely resembling his birthday present. Pulling his lower lip in between his teeth, he glanced up at the higher shelves. That's probably where she'd hidden it, somewhere that he couldn't see.

He peeked out the door to make sure she hadn't come into the room and then turned back to the shelves. He grabbed onto one just above his head and began to climb. When he reached the top, he moved a few things around, searching for anything that might be his present.

"Justin," his mother called. Justin startled and his arm knocked into something. There was a crash and Justin looked down at the floor in horror. A figure from his mother's nativity set, the one that had been her grandmother's, lay in tiny pieces on the floor.

"Oh no, oh no, oh no," he whispered under his breath as he quickly climbed back down the shelves. When he reached the floor the tears began to roll down his cheeks. There was no way he could fix this, not with all the glue in the world. His mother was going to be furious with him. Worse than that, she was going to be sad. He gathered up the pieces and hid them behind his back, just as his mother wrenched open the door.

"What are you doing in here?" she asked, her eyes narrowing. Justin gulped.

"N-nothing," he stuttered. She crossed her arms in front of her, a smirk playing at the corner of her mouth.

"Oh really?" she said in amusement. "You wouldn't be snooping for your birthday present, now would you?" He shook his head quickly. She chuckled. "Somehow I don't think I believe you. What do you have behind your back?"

"Nothing," he said again, squeezing the pieces tightly in his hands.

"Justin," she said. "Let me see." He swallowed thickly, then frowned. He thought he'd felt the pieces in his hands move. But, that couldn't be. Oh she was going to be so upset. He jumped. The shards in his hands had most definitely moved.

"Justin," she warned. He took a deep breath and slowly brought his arm out from behind his back. His mouth dropped open as he saw the fully formed figurine in his hand. He was so surprised he almost dropped it again.

"What are you doing with that?" she asked quickly taking it from him.

"I, I," he trailed off looking up at her. She put her hands on her hips, one still holding the figurine.

"Justin Finch-Fletchley, you know better than to be touching my things," she said.

"Yes, Mum," he replied. "I'm sorry." She sighed and reached up on her tiptoes, putting the figurine back on the shelf.

"And you can stop snooping for your present," she smirked. "I hid it at your grandmother's." She ruffled his hair as she walked away. Justin leaned back against the wall and slowly slid to the floor. That time he knew he hadn't hit his head. And he knew, without a doubt, that the figure had shattered when it fell to the floor. He held his hands up in front of his face and looked at them incredulously. Was it possible? Did he really have magical powers? Shaking his head furiously, Justin let his hands drop to the floor. No, he was nearly eight years old, magic wasn't real. He didn't know how the figurine had fixed itself, but it had nothing to do with magic.

* * *

The older Justin got and the more incidents there were, the more worried he became. His mother had finally experienced one of his "episodes" as she called them a few months after his eighth birthday. She hadn't had any more of an explanation for it than he had. She had hugged him and kissed the top of his head, telling him that everything was fine and he needn't worry about it. But when she thought he was asleep, he heard her talking on the telephone to his grandmother and she was crying.

* * *

Justin lay in his bed thinking about it again, after he had somehow managed to repair the china he had broken when he and Geoffrey were goofing around in the dining room. He knew there were people that claimed to be psychic or said that they could move things with their minds. There had been all kind of scientific studies done on people like that and they all turned out to be frauds. But sometimes he wondered if there were a few that didn't, and if there were, what happened to them. Did the scientists or the government take them away and hide them somewhere so they could experiment on them or make sure they didn't hurt anyone? Justin shivered. No one else could ever know about this, whatever it was. He couldn't leave his mother alone.

* * *

There was a knock on the door a few weeks after his eleventh birthday. When Justin opened it a woman stood looking down at him. She was older, near his grandmother's age he suspected. Her dark hair was pulled back in a severe looking bun and she was wearing square framed spectacles. Justin looked up at her and felt, he wasn't sure what exactly, something he couldn't explain. But for some reason, something inside of him relaxed and he knew that everything was going to be all right.

"Hello Mr. Finch-Fletchley," the woman said with a small smile. "Is your mother at home?"

"Yes, Ma'am," he replied.

"Well then, I suggest you fetch her," the woman told him. "We have much to discuss."


End file.
